Chater 3- The brittle wood rushed through the air, woosh.

“Again.”

In the clearing stood two humans. The voice had belonged to a man. He was speaking to a girl, who was flailing about with a staff that was easily double her height.

The two were surrounded by trees. The towering beauties were close together, intertwining roots and branches in an eternal embrace, creating a domed canopy of emerald green above the pair. The sun had long since begun its descent. The light shafting through the canopy leaves was a delicate mixture of airy, bubbly red-orange hues. The air surrounding them was warm yet, outside the forest, villagers and vendors rushed to their homes as the temperature steadily declined. They might see rain tomorrow morning. Mist had already begun rolling in by the shore.

Animals had gathered in the clearing, intrigued by these newcomers, they didn't get many visitors in this part of the forest. Among the regular rodents one could typically expect to find in the woods were curious animals that the villagers had never seen before, an entirely purposeful fact. These creatures were shapeshifters, disguised among the group to witness the spectacle firsthand: the prophecy had arrived.

There she stood, taking her place at the center of the sacred clearing, below the canopy the gods so cleverly and painstakingly crafted. Yet, at the same time, she was not the prophecy, and this was not the same sacred area as it once was. Perhaps, as she grew, things would change.

Although the arrival of the girl was said to be a grand and spectacular event, the forest was entirely silent. The animals that inhabited the wood were hidden away in the foliage, watching, waiting for a signal from the young girl.

They didn't know her, but they were fully capable of recognizing that the great aura within her held a certain sway over all of their futures. This was especially so if her presence had brought the shifters away from their dwellings. However, they were afraid for her, sensing that the many heavy burdens she carried on her young shoulders were already taking their toll. They knew that she would one day need their strength, their guidance, and for that, they waited in a heavy, solemn silence.

“Again, young one,” the man's voice was gentle, encouraging the girl. The animals turned their attention to the man. He was fair and slightly stocky, pacing before his partner. The man was well on into life, though not yet close to its end. In fact, he was spry and jovial with a wise, experienced look about him.

He was muscular, yet very graceful and limber, with light skin upon a beautiful, angular face that had been enhanced by freckles and battle scars. The animals saw him as the rare truth he was: a reliable man with strong virtues and a painful past. The shifters, however, were not as trusting, aware that the men of the past were not as simple as they seemed.

And the young girl? She was perhaps about the age of seven or eight. She was standing before him, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. Her entire body trembled and was wheezing with every intake of breath. The shifters watched worriedly as her body began hollowing, shrinking, with her every exhale. She was shaking from the mere effort of standing.

She had been forced, no, chosen to begin training with the Queen’s Captain of the Guard. She would become her grandmother's, again, no, the Queen’s, new personal right hand.

If the procedure was done properly, then she would become the ideal servant. She would become versatile and fulfill the Queen's every want and need.

She was to be trained in stealth, learning to become a shadow. She would become a master of all forms of combat. She would be efficient, educated in all eastern languages and cultures, and conditioned to blend in anywhere, seamlessly. She would be a spy, an assassin, a slave to the art. A slave, though, she already was.

The girl had been training with the Captain for several weeks now, but today was the most rigorous session they’ve had. Mainly because everything before had been precursory, it had all been stretches and breathing and footwork to prepare her for the full process. Movements and exercises to control her body. Meditation and telekinesis to concentrate and fortify her mind. Why was it so hard now? It was absolutely infuriating.

She grit her teeth, face flushed and muscles quivering, attempting to draw back her staff. The forward force she generated this time was not so impressive; she had not even able to draw the slightest woosh. Holding back a resigned sigh, the shifters left. They sensed that she had potential, but if this was her best, maybe she was not the prophecy at all.

Almost as though she had sensed their disappointment, she bit back the guttural wail and the searing tears of frustration, of failure. After all, she'd have to get used to it sometime. That's all she was... A failure. She'd never have the right to be anything more.

“Hm,” the Captain mused as he squatted down to the girl’s level. He could see her pain, clear as the crystal tears adorning her eyelashes,“It seems that you are not understanding the concept.” Perhaps a demonstration would be best, he thought to himself.

After a moment of looking into the Captain's leaf green eyes, Aya followed them as he stood. Then came the familiar slow scraping of metal on metal: a sword being removed from its sheath.

The girl looked up in horror, her body rigid. All too quickly, her life flashed before her eyes: the fire that began it all, the burns that marked her, the crack of the whip that haunted her, and the scars that followed, degrading her.

Noting her fear, the Captain squatted down once more, patting her head with his light, gloved hand. His armor wasn’t as bulky as the others; he had mentioned that it was made of an alloy to increase mobility. At the time, she mentioned that he’d be more susceptible to elements because of the alloy. Now, remembering that, she feels it would’ve been best to just keep her big mouth shut and stay on his good side.

He chuckled, turning her chin to look her in the eye, “Don’t be afraid, you already know I’m not like the others. Now, watch.” He gestured, telling her to not even blink. He turned to his right, stepped forward, slashed his sword downward, spinning back around, following his force, slashing the same spot in the opposite direction and resheathing his sword. He had created a small wind pocket with his first movements, and it burst open the second time he swung his sword. The pressurized air pummeled into the ground, turning up the grass and burrowing a hole into the ground like a drill.

“I learned how to do this with the very same staff you’re holding now. I used to work on a plantation as a child. This,” he pointed at the ground, “is a smaller scale example. After mastering the technique, it’s possible to plow entire forests, drill into mines, et cetera.”

“It’s like a dance.”

The blonde warrior staggered, taken aback by the girl’s sudden sound. She had barely spoken to him at all, but now her voice was strong, he recognized an authoritative tone. Unfortunately, all he could muster up was, “What?”

Afraid she’d done something wrong, the girl cowered, “I said it's like a,” she bit her lip, “what I mean is that it’s very s-similar to a..a...a-”

“A dance,” the Captain crouched down once more. “Do you like dancing, Aya?”

The little girl nodded, smiling exuberantly.

The Captain chuckled again, “Then dance with me, Aya!” He swooped down and scooped her up, a bundle of giggling, girlish joy.

“This is how she should look all the time... If she were my child, I’d make sure she would. What is that woman thinking, training her to become a bodyguard, a killer, at such a young age,” the Captain thought to himself.

Aya smiled up at him, secure in his warm, fatherly embrace, “Don’t worry, I can handle it. It wasn’t her idea anyway,” she paused, “I want to protect my Nana!”

The Captain’s face was stern for a bit, he put Aya back down, gently, and turned away, as though he were consulting someone on what to say next. He turned back and he broke out into the most genuine smile Aya had ever seen, and it was contagious. With it, she was a fit of giggles again- it was a moment she would forever hold close to her heart.

“Very well, my lady,” the Captain responded, bowing. “I shall tutor you in the ways of dance!” The Captain struck an odd, angular pose and continued, pacing and wagging his finger in the air, “First, you will learn the waltz,” he spun on his heels, “then we will move on to ballet from all over the world,” he pirouetted as a demonstration for Aya, who approved, collapsing on the grassy floor, holding her sides as laughter erupted from her chest. The Captain smiled, then resumed his pacing, “Then, tango and flamenco,” he thrust his leg out and lunged, Aya thought that, while he was quite silly, he was also graceful and poised, in his own strange way. The Captain turned to her, and she cocked her head up to him as he beamed down at her, “You will learn them all, I promise!”

Aya’s eyes widened, “Really? You mean it?”

The Captain swooped down once more, lifting the child and spun, arms in the air.“Aya, you will grow so much, and you can only continue to grow through learning,” he held her close. “Always remember, those who learn are those who fight, those who don’t will lose their sight. For now, we’ll take a break, but I’d better see you here at dawn tomorrow,” he said, as he placed her down and sent her on her way.

With that, Aya nodded and left, picking up the abandoned staff. She ran to the castle, knowing that if she wanted to be on time tomorrow, she'd need to get the majority of her chores finished that night. She would have to muck the stables, set up the feed, and do the laundry tomorrow. Tonight, the pots and kettles in the palace kitchen call her. Giggling with excitement, she ran through the town towards the castle, arms extended and flowing with the wind.

Aya dozed off early the next morning, a ladle in one hand and a scrubber in another.